Operation Ariadne Arthur
by beautiful little fool
Summary: The team takes it upon themselves to play matchmaker for Arthur and Ariadne.
1. Saito

**A/N:** I couldn't resist this prompt at inception_kink on livejournal. It had to be written.

* * *

Saito

A month after Fischer's inception, Saito leaves a message on his voicemail. He leaves no details, just a vague mention of a job possibility and a date, time and location for a meeting. Arthur doesn't think much of it. Corporate espionage wasn't something one discussed over the phone, much less left recorded on voicemail.

They meet at some swanky New York restaurant where Arthur knows reservations are near impossible and a salad requires dishing out a fortune. But of course, Saito being Saito, there are no such things as waiting lists and reservations, the head chef personally greets them at the door and the waiting staff appears immediately by his side with the snap of his fingertips. Literally.

Arthur merely raises a questioning brow as they settle themselves at their table.

Saito gestures vaguely around him in explanation. "I own the restaurant."

"I figured as much."

After the server is nodded off with drink orders, Arthur steels himself for the inevitably brusque conversation concerning the demands and requirements of the job. Needless to say, his companion's next words are unexpected.

"So how are things?"

"'Things'?" he repeats dumbly, baffled.

"Yes. 'Things' as in your life."

Arthur's face no longer holds the cool and calm demeanor it normally does because blunt, abrasive Saito is injecting _pleasantries _into their conversation. He's somewhat tempted to reach for his totem.

"I'm sorry. Are you actually asking me how my life is going? And do you genuinely _care_?"

To his surprise, Saito looks highly offended. "Contrary to popular belief, I am not a heartless man." Arthur gives him a pointed look. "Well, not entirely, anyway."

"Okay, so let me get this straight, you call -" Arthur pauses, something registering in his brain. "Hold on. How did you even get my number? I don't recall ever giving it to you."

Silence. Here, Saito looks slightly sheepish.

"I bought the wireless courier your phone is registered with," he answers finally.

Arthur's eyes widen in disbelief. "Are you serious? You bought AT&T?"

"It was very important that I get in contact with you," the businessman whined.

"So what, you could touch base with me?"

"In a matter of speaking, yes."

Arthur blows out a sigh of frustration. "Well, I'm great, alright? Amazing, even. Thank you for asking." He makes to get up. "If that's all you wanted to discuss and there isn't another pressing issue at hand, I think I should get going."

"Miss Ariadne is a lovely young woman."

The Japanese businessman was all kinds of random that evening. _That_, Arthur thought, _or limbo seriously screwed him up._

"And many young men would consider themselves lucky to be in her company." Saito starts giving him suggestive looks, eyebrows raised, lips curving into a knowing smirk and crown of the head tilting forward as if to say _you know what I'm talking about_. Arthur half expects his eyebrows to start waggling.

He sighed exasperatedly. "Saito, I don't understa-"

Saito rolls his eyes in a fairly undignified fashion. "Do not play me for a fool, Arthur. I _know._"

"And what exactly do you '_know_'?"

Unsurprisingly, Saito's eyebrows begin to bob up and down, smile widening dementedly. "Second level. Hotel lobby. Suspicious projections. _Kiss_," is his gleeful response, the manic glimmer in his eyes magnifying in emphasis.

Arthur doesn't know rather to be embarrassed to have been caught or surprised (and suspicious) that Saito knew or fear for the poor man's sanity. Because really, the man was morphing into a giggly, _deranged_ teenage girl right before his eyes.

He settles for indignant instead. "How did you even know that?"

"I have my ways."

Knowing him, he probably bribed Fischer's projections. If that was even possible.

"So," Saito says conspiratorially, leaning across the table, "what are you going to do?"

"What am I - ? I'm not going to do anything. It was a kiss, okay? Why are you making such a huge deal out of this?"

"I'm a romantic at heart." Arthur sports a doubtful look. "I am! And in my line of work, there isn't much romance. Lust, perhaps, but love is rather elusive."

"Please, do not project your desire for romance onto Ariadne and me."

"Why? So you can die an old man, alone and filled with regrets?"

"Damn it, Saito!" Arthur growls, scowling at his companion. "What is it with you and that line?"

Saito smiles smugly. "It's how I make everyone bend to my will."

"Yeah, well, it's pretty damn effective."

"Which is why it has also been trademarked." At Arthur's dumbfounded stare, Saito steers the conversation back to the original topic at hand. "So," he begins, clapping and rubbing his palms excitedly, "I think you should start off with dinner."

"Saito, Ariadne's in Paris. I'm in New York. I can't just fly over there on a whim and take her out."

There's a soft scoff and the wave of a hand. "Nonsense. My newly acquired airline should be of some use."

"Saito -"

"And you can take her to this nice little bistro I am currently in the process of buying out. She's mentioned on a few occasions that it's her favourite place to dine in Paris."

"You're just buying a restaurant on a whim?" By this point, Arthur really shouldn't have been surprised.

Saito tsked, as if reprimanding him for asking such a moronic question. "Arthur," he says patiently, "I am buying this restaurant as a favour to you."

A beat.

"And then afterwards, I was thinking I could shut down the Eiffel Tower to tourists so the two of you could enjoy a little alone time." The older man shoots Arthur a sly look. "Maybe squeeze in another kiss."

The Point Man buries his face in his hands - ("But less chaste.") - and groans.

* * *

_More to come soon. (I hope.) Drop a review. Love and feedback are always appreciated._


	2. Cobb

**A/N: **Thank you guys for all the feedback and love. Serriously. You guys are awesome.

* * *

Cobb

Six weeks after his impromptu "business" meeting with Saito, Arthur flies to Los Angeles (courtesy of the same Japanese businessman mentioned above) to pay the Cobbs a visit. He can't honestly call it a purely a social visit (though he does pack a suitcase full of gifts for Philippa and James) since its purpose is more or less checking up on Dom, making sure that another round in limbo hadn't caused any irreversible damage to his state of mind or being.

Dom greets him at the airport, relaxed and, dare he say it, _smiling_. This immediately arouses concern (and suspicion) out of Arthur and causes him to wonder if personality alteration is a possible side-effect of limbo. Because a grinning and genuinely happy Dom Cobb should've been near impossible and nowhere in the realm of reality.

The car ride to Dom's home is filled with pleasant conversation and filling each other in about the last two-and-a-half months since they'd last seen one another. The older man dominates the majority of the conversation, speaking animatedly about his children and Arthur is more than happy to just listen. Because really, how does one go about interrupting the ramblings of a man who had once lost everything with no way of getting any of it back and who, with the help of one insanely rich Japanese man with the power to buy out just about anything he wanted (or didn't want), had just recently gotten said everything back (minus one disillusioned wife)? There's simply no way, not without coming off as a complete jackass.

But as they sit at the kitchen table with warm mugs of coffee (James and Philippa drooling over their new toys in the other room), all of the retired Extractor's attention is zeroed in on his former colleague. Which, needless to say, makes the latter a little twitchy. He brings the coffee to his lips just for the sake of doing something. He would never admit it out loud, but Dom's watchful, eerily blue eyes have always given him the heebie-jeebies.

"So, Saito's kind of keen on the idea of you and Ariadne," Dom suddenly says conversationally, as if that was an ordinary conversation opener.

Arthur balks, causing the coffee to run down the wrong tube and up through his nose. "Keen is an understatement," he manages to cough out through the painful burning in his nose. "I'd say he's fixated on it."

The blond man shrugs his broad shoulders. "Yeah, he gets all cackly whenever he talks about it."

The Point Man's eyes bug out of their sockets. "'Whenever he talks about it'? How often does he talk about it?"

Another shrug. "Often enough, I guess. He keeps phoning out of the blue and puts Eames, Yusuf and me on a four-way conference call to discuss what he calls 'Operation Ariadne/Arthur'."

His jaw drops so low that Arthur's pretty sure it's dislocated. "The entire team is in on this?"

"It's supposed to be a covert operation, you know, very hush-hush. But this is your life that's being messed with, after all, and I thought you had the right to know that we'd be meddling in it."

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Arthur knows he should be grateful that Cobb was endangering himself (because who were they kidding, Saito is a vengeful madman who's inclined to resort to violence when he feels he's been even slightly wronged) in order to be a good friend, but all he can feel is indignation toward these full-grown men for meddling in his love life (of all things) like a bunch of nosy housewives.

"I can't believe this! Because of one little, _extremely chaste_ kiss, might I add, you've all decided that Ariadne and I are soul mates or something?" he all but explodes.

Dom is as cool as a cucumber and only blinks back at the younger man's enraged expression. "Actually, Saito believes your fates are forever intertwined-"

The Point Man's hands are thrown up in the air. "For fuck's sake! -"

"Hey, lets watch the language, alright?" Dom says sharply, eyes narrowing into slits.

Running a palm down his face, Arthur mumbles an apology. With a sigh, he adds, "I just don't understand Saito's obsession with my love life and why all of you are so intent on making this happen."

Dom's features soften. "I'm only in on this because I can see what Saito's talking about."

"What? You're seriously buying all of his bullshit?"

Blue eyes narrow once again.

"Sorry. I mean, nonsense," Arthur amends quickly with an apologetic look.

"It's not all nonsense. Yes, the man's been spewing some ridiculous stuff, but some of it isn't half crazy." Ignoring his friend's doubtful look, Cobb continues, "There's a connection between you and Ariadne. As soon as she joined the team, the two of you sort of clicked. And what I saw wasn't just attraction, it was also understanding. Completely open communication. Total trust and faith in one another. And that's very rare to come by. I haven't seen it since -" (there's a faraway look in his eyes) "-well, you know."

Arthur does know, knows that Dom's unspoken words are '_Mal and me_.'

The haze lifts from Cobb's eyes as a furrow settles between his brows and his lips purse into a grim frown. "But you've got to be careful, Arthur. Two dreamers in a relationship - I'm sure I don't have to tell you how dangerous that can be."

Arthur exhales a defeated sigh. "Dom, you don't even know how she feels about me. You can't have a one-sided relationship," he tries to argue futilely.

Amusement lights Cobb's usually wary face, and suddenly he looks like the cat that swallowed a canary. "Is that an admission, Arthur?" he teases. "Are you in love? Was that kiss really more than an innocent peck on the lips?" Giddy Cobb was definitely unflattering, Arthur decides.

And just as he's about to retract everything he'd just said, Philippa races into the kitchen, James in tow, screaming at the top of her lungs, "Uncle Arthur, you kissed somebody? Who? Are you in ?" She's jumping up and down in excitement, both hands pressed to her cheeks, looking about as giddy (and deranged) as her father.

Meanwhile, James is none too impressed. "Ewwwwwww. Girls have cooties, Uncle Arthur. You shouldn't be kissing them." His face is deadly serious as he adds, "You could die."

Philippa rolls her eyes. "Girls do not have cooties, James." Her scowl turns into a wide smile as she turns to Arthur. "Kiss all the girls you want, Uncle Arthur. I'm sure they'd love it."

Grinning, Arthur grabs her shoulders and plants a wet one her cheek. She giggles as her brother gags and their father chuckles. "Thanks, Philippa. Your advice is appreciated and duly noted."

With a yell, the children scamper off, leaving two amused men alone with their coffees.

"Alright," Arthur finally relents (albeit with much reluctance and after a long, silent moment of Cobb's creepy eyes goading him into a confession), "I may harbour some feelings for Ariadne."

Dom full out beams like a proud parent whose child has finally mastered the art of potty-training. "That's a start."

"Yeah, well, you're a deadman if Saito finds out you've told me about his secret operation," the younger man says, half-jokingly.

"No, he won't," is the confident response. "I'll just remind him who saved his sorry ass from dying an old man in unconstructed dreamspace."

"Sometimes, I think you should've just left him there."

* * *

_Reviews are love and very much appreciated. Thanks for reading._


	3. Eames

**A/N:** Sorry for the delay, guys. I had some trouble with this chapter. There seemed to be a lot of anticipation for Eames appearance and I really didn't want to disappoint. And I dealt with this by procrastinating. Not proud of it. I apologize. Also, forgive me if this chapter is not cracky enough.

* * *

Eames

Two weeks later, he and Eames end up working a job together. With the exception of a handshake in greeting, Arthur avoids the British man (and his knowing smirk) like the plague. The last thing he needs is for the Forger to harangue him about Ariadne and embarrass him with crude romantic advice in the middle of an operation.

And for the most part, Eames allows his colleague to skirt around him. In fact, he doesn't even make half-assed attempts to corner, ambush or harass Arthur. In retrospect, the Point Man realizes that this in itself (Eames refraining from harassing him is unheard of) should have sent alert and "beware" signals to his brain. He knows from experience that if Eames hasn't already pounced and ripped off the head of his prey, it usually means there's something more sinister brewing.

Three days before the day of the job (a relatively simple extraction involving New York's most notorious mob boss and the identity of his mole in the NYPD), Arthur receives a letter, a good old-fashioned one complete with a sealed envelope and postage stamp. From Ariadne. He may have been pleasantly surprised if it weren't for the fact that he had never given her so much as a clue as to his whereabouts, let alone his address. In fact, no one knows his exact address right down to the apartment number and zip code.

For a brief moment, he entertains the idea that Saito somehow discovered (bribed or tortured for) it. But he's almost positive that the handwriting belongs to Ariadne, and really, he's more curious about its content than how it got there. So pushing his suspicions aside, he neatly tears the envelope open with a letter opener (he finds it barbaric the way most people rip open letters), unfolds and reads.

Dear Arthur,

I'm not any good with letters. In fact, I don't think I've ever written a letter that's actually meant for someone to really read. It just seems weird. Writing down words on paper when you could speak them out loud seems kind of pointless to me. And who even writes letters anymore anyway? With correct spelling and punctuation and the "yours truly"... Okay, you probably do, but other than you, I can't really think of anyone else. So me writing a letter was pretty much a dumb idea. Completely lame. But I'm doing it anyway so I might as well get to the point.

Here's the thing: I dream about you. Often. A lot. Specifics aren't important. What is important is that these dreams are driving me crazy and could possibly be ruining my life. I can't concentrate during lectures, I lose focus in the middle of an assignment, and I'm just all over the place.

I think I might need to see you. No, I know that I need to see you. Just to get whatever this is out of my system. So yeah, we need to see each other. I don't know when, where or how, but you're the Point Man, I'll trust you to fill in the details.

Yours,

Ariadnee

And suddenly, all of his suspicions are resurfacing and irritation surges powerfully though his veins. His right eye twitches. The vein in his forehead throbs dangerously.

"Eames," he growls through gritted teeth. The paper crumples violently in his hand.

*

Arthur's all flashing eyes and angry pout as he pushes through the heavy doors of the warehouse. in fact, his rage is so thick and blinding that he (almost) doesn't care that his tie is askew and his hair is sticking out in ridiculous tuffs. And he basically forgets that yelling incomprehensibly is thoroughly undignified when he zeros in on Eames.

He stomps up to the Forger and thrusts the wrinkled piece of paper into his face. "What is this?"

Eames eyes dart from the document in he's reading to Arthur's contorted face then to the offending item in his hand.

"That, dear Arthur, is something that belongs in a waste bin."

Impatience rising in his chest, the Point Man unleashes a growl. "It's a letter-"

"Oh, very good. I'm glad you've deduced that much on your own-"

"-from Ariadne-"

"Oh, how is our favourite architect?" Accompanied by wide, curious eyes, Eames's interest could be conceived as genuine to anyone else. Arthur knows better.

"-supposedly."

The Forger chuckles, shaking his head. "You know, Arthur, you've always been too suspicious for your own good."

Arthur scoffs. "I steal information from people in dreams for a living. I can't afford not to be suspicious. I wouldn't be good at what I do if I wasn't."

The older man only smirks back in response. "So," he says, transitioning smoothly and nodding towards the source of the younger man's fury, "what's it say?"

"Right. As if you don't know."

The englishman sighs dramatically, feigning aggravation (almost convincingly if it weren't for the pure, unadulterated glee dancing in his eyes). Leaning back against his chair, the two hind legs precariously balancing his weight, he asks, "Really, Arthur, what must I do to convince you that I had nothing to do with this letter with which, might I add, you are so clearly obsessed."

Shooting the other man an unamused look, Arthur replies, "You can start by spelling Ariadne correctly."

This gives Eames a start, nearly toppling over backward in his chair. "What-" he begins to shriek, voice cracking and calm demeanor stripped off his face. Arthur's brows rise in surprise and his lips tip discreetly into a smirk. With a dirty look toward his companion and a manly cough to clear his throat (and all remnants of his girly scream), Eames rights the chair and himself firmly onto the floor. "I can spell the girl's name, thank you very much," he retorts back defiantly.

"Oh, yeah?"

Ever the petulant child, Eames hotly snaps, "Yeah!"

"Spell it, then."

Rising to the challenge, Eames squares his shoulders and puffs out his chest. "A - R - I - A - D - N - E -" He pauses to shoot Arthur a smug, triumphant look. "E."

Face revealing nothing, Arthur questions, "Was that a double E?"

Eames rolls his eyes. "Don't act dense. You know I've spelt it properly, two E's and all."

Arthur's own eyes roll to the back of his head. "God, you're a failure as a Forger, Eames. How can you not even bother to learn the correct spelling of your Forge's name?" At his colleague's blank look, he spiels on. "How is it that you even get recruited for jobs? I don't even know why Cobb always insists on hunting you down when we all know it's a pain in the ass just to find you and when there are tons of decent Forgers just a phone call away!"

A frown mars the Forger's features. "What the bloody hell are you spewing on about, Arthur?"

Arthur lets out an undignified groan, shirt coming untucked as his hands fly heavenward exasperatedly. "Ariadne is spelt with one E!"

Silence.

Suddenly, Eames's deft fingers are reaching out and snatching the wrinkled sheet from Arthur's grasp. His eyes move quickly to the bottom of the page and when they catch what he's looking for, he lets out a dismayed groan. "Fuck."

"Yeah, that's right. Now do you mind explaining what the fuck you're doing actually involving yourself in Saito's madness? Did he bribe you? Because we all know you don't actually give a horse's ass about me and that man's got a boatload of money to throw at people."

"I cannot fucking believe this," Eames says, as if Arthur hadn't spoken. "I actually take the time to spell-check the entire letter on Microsoft Word before transferring it onto paper and her name, her goddamn name is the one word that's not on spell-check?" His voice, which had started dangerously low at the beginning of his tirade, has now crescendoed to a point where Arthur is seriously beginning to fear bodily harm. Possibly a chair to the face. "Bill fucking Gates!"

Though he knows he shouldn't, Arthur can't help but feel the need to laugh at Eames's little conniption, especially since a spectacular shade of red has claimed the Brit's complexion and his eyes are bulging out rather ridiculously. It's all too hilarious. Somehow, he manages to keep himself in check. "Spell-check wasn't exactly designed for correcting misspelled names, Eames."

"Well, I never once saw a squiggly red line under your name, Arthur," Eames bites back accusingly, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Don't look at me like that. I didn't tamper with your computer if that's what you're thinking." As the Forger's eyes narrow further, Arthur concludes that that was indeed what he was thinking. "Arthur's a pretty common name. I'm sure if you'd typed in Saito or Cobb or Yusuf or even your name for that matter you'd get some squiggly lines."

"Don't be a smartass! The sheer stupidity of Microsoft has effectively ruined this operation! If Bill Gates is such a bloody genius he should have invented a spell-check system for names -" A glossy sheen of delusion glaze over Eames's eyes. "Name-check!" he exclaims shrilly.

He then leaps over to Arthur, grabs him by the shoulders and shakes his lean frame, exclaiming, "We've got to perform inception on Bill Gates!"

Shrugging the strong grip off his shoulders, Arthur eyes the eager man wearily. "We are not incepting Bill Gates."

"But why not?"

"Because." The answer is definitive.

The Forger considers this a moment. "You're right, Arthur. Absolutely right. Why should I let Gates take credit for such brilliance? It was my idea, wasn't it? I should get it bloody patented and maybe, just maybe, I'll let old Billy buy it off me!" He grins widely. "Sometimes, Arthur, I amaze even myself."

The Point Man in turn shoots him a look that conveys that he clearly does not share the sentiment. "So you admit to forging this letter?" He waves the paper in front of Eames's face for emphasis.

The Englishman shrugs, unaffected, his moment of delusion and insanity vanishing in an instant. "I suppose I've admitted as much. But really, it was for your own good."

"What are you talking about?"

Another shrug. "Just that you're the kind of person that never really goes for the things he wants in life. Especially the things that are staring him directly in the face, things he could have if he would just risk a step forward and reach out. If you ask me, it's rather cruel what you're doing to yourself."

"Then it's a good thing no one asked you."

"We - "

"We?"

"Saito and I -"

"Of course."

"-thought you could use a little push, you know, to get the ball rolling, so to speak."

When Arthur fails to respond, Eames adds for clarity, "You being the ball, of course."

"Well, you know what? Thanks but no thanks. I don't need you shoving love letters down my throat or Saito playing some twisted game of matchmaker. I'm perfectly fine without everyone trying to mess with my life. And I'm perfectly capable of handling my own love life."

Eames's lips twist into a coy smile. "Oh, so you do admit that you've set your sights on the lovely Ariadne."

"Wait - wha - I never said that."

The Forger tuts. "Not in so many words. But judging by the way you're blushing right now, I don't think the words are really necessary."

Arthur tries to fight down the flush creeping up his neck. "Just -" he pinches the bridge of his nose instead, "stop meddling in my life, okay? You, Saito and whoever else you've managed to recruit."

"Oh, Arthur, you are positively smitten."

With a vicious glare and an offending hand gesture, Arthur turns to retreat to his corner of the warehouse. But something he's put on the backburner of his mind impatiently demands his attention. "Hold on," he says angling his body back towards Eames. "How did you find my address?"

"Saito owns half the condominiums in the Upper East Side, darling. Including yours," the Forger replies easily, settling back into his chair.

Slightly dumbfounded by this new bit of information, Arthur almost misses Eames's sly wink and the breezily added, "Oh, and don't be surprised if Ariadne does actually write you. Well, more like writes you back, really. You made it abundantly clear in your last letter just how much you enjoyed that kiss." 

* * *

_I'm sorry it wasn't as cracky as I'd hoped. Reviews are love._


End file.
